


Jinn and Tonic

by Darklady



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Adoption, Background Slash, Children, Established Relationship, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-09
Updated: 2011-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-27 02:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/290885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darklady/pseuds/Darklady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Case fic. The reason why 'wish' is always a four-letter word. Insanity in text form.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jinn and Tonic

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first - and I presume last - Angel fic. I didn’t even want to write it. But I got bitten by a plot bunny (those things are worse then vampires!) and so here it is. This is again AU to another writer's AU. (Although I don't think any actual borrowing remains - unless Angel/Wes/Gunn is a unique idea.) Served with a big dash of comment-fic. Plus extra helping of crack on the side. Garnished with snark. You are warned.
> 
> Written well before the end of the series, it is in no way Joss-compliant.

“Bitch” Wesley Wyndham-Pryce muttered, tossing his jacket at the coat rack as he slammed through the office door.

 

Cordelia considered taking offense, but decided it wasn't worth it. Not when Wes sincerely looked upset. Which he was. Besides, from the sympathetic glance Gunn was sending over, it was clear that at least one of them knew whom the ex-Watcher was referring to... and it wasn't her.

 

“Bad news.” Wesley clawed at his tie. “Seems, according to the great state of California, we don’t have enough room for a growing child.”

 

“In the Hyperion?” Angel stood in the doorway, quieting the still shaking door. “Even if you don’t count the basement, we have....”

 

“I know.” Wesley dropped into the nearest chair. Hard.

 

“Don’t matter.” Charles Gunn stepped over to rest a hand on Wesley's shaking shoulder. “Social services bitch wont say it, but she’s never going to give a kid to a mixed race, same-sex couple.”

 

Angel’s face clouded. “Maybe if...”

 

Gunn snorted. “Hell, Angel. Face facts. She won’t even approve us as foster parents, and you know how bad they need those.” He bent down, pulling Wesley closer.

 

“Maybe...” Angel said slowly. “I should have a word with Wolfram and Hart? See if one of their lawyers can arrange something... privately.” He too went over to stand by Wes. “You wouldn’t mind a mixed-species kid, would you?”

 

“Hell, no.” Wesley sighed. “I just want a kid. Someone I can love and protect and...” The rest of his words were lost in Gunn's shoulder.

 

“I know, Wes.” Angel knelt down beside him. “I have my Childe, at least. Annoying as Spike may be. But you…”

 

Gunn rested his chin of Wesley’s hair. “Maybe if you... went somewhere... and didn't tell them?”

 

“Hell no.” Wesley stood up, shaking off their embraces. “I’m done with living a lie. We’re beyond that.”

 

What more he might have said was interrupted by the phone.

 

Cordelia reached it first. “Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless,” she said, clicking on the speaker.

 

“I hope you can.” A ladies voice sounded from the other end. Slightly past middle age, and slightly foreign. “Somebody stole my husband.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs.?”

 

“Azzid. Fatima Azzid.”

 

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Azzid, but we don't handle domestic cases. If Mr. Azzid...”

 

“Just Azzid.”

 

Cordelia pressed ahead, her expression one of infinite - and undeserved - patience. “If Azzid went off with some young lady...”

 

“But he **_didn't_** , the voice wailed. “It was that nasty old man next door. He’s taken my Azzid from me, and he’s using him...”

 

“I’m sure that upsets you.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “But we really can’t interfere with affairs of the heart. If your Azzid wants to come back, then I’m sure he will. If not...” she let the sentence trail off.

 

“You don’t understand!” This time the wail was louder, and interspersed with sniffles. “I mean that evil man **_really_** stole him. Snuck in while my back was turned and...”

 

“Excuse me.” Angel stepped forward.” This Azzid... do you mean he was kidnapped? Is there a ransom note? Did you go to the police?”

 

“No!” The wail rose to a near scream. “You don’t understand. My Azzid is a jinn!”

 

“A drink?” Gunn cast a suspicious eye at the speaker.

 

“One moment.” Wesley held up his hand. “Mrs. Azzid, do you mean to say that this husband of yours is what might be called a ‘genie’.”

 

“What?” Gunn mouthed at Angel, his expression was even more unconvinced. “Like ‘I Dream of’.”

 

“Exactly.” The lady on the phone gasped with a certain relief. “Except that my Azzid is a ring jinn, and...”

 

Angel took the lead again. “You believe he’s been stolen.”

 

“I know he’s been stolen!” Her tone shifted from pain to outrage. “I had taken him off.  Just for a moment. I was baking cinnamon rolls, you see, and the spices always irritate his sensitive skin. Anyway, while I was cooking, this strange man came to the door. He said he was selling Encyclopedias. Well, I told him I didn’t want any, but he just wouldn't leave, and by the time I got back to the kitchen?”

 

“The ring was gone?” Angle’s politely made the statement a question.

 

“Exactly!” Outrage shifted again - this time to pure anger. “And I saw Mr. Housperian - he’s the man next door - standing in his back yard. Which is why I’m sure he stole my husband.” There was one more sniffle, and a honk, before the lady finished. “And I want you to get him back!”

 

“I understand, Mrs. Azzid.” Cordelia reached for a pen with one hand while she pulled over a new client form with the other. “Why don't you give me your address, and we’ll have a team there just after sunset.”

 

* * *

 

Gunn read off the address as Angel pulled his car over in front of aging three-story stucco tucked in one of the steep-roaded older developments of North Hollywood. It was almost invisible behind a constant growth of eucalyptus and scrub pine. Hardly where one would expect to find magic creatures, but - Angel leaned over to reread Cordilia’s note - this was the place.

 

“Interesting.” Wesley wiped his glasses. “I was expecting something a bit more...”

 

“Flashy?” Angel asked.

 

“Disney?” Gunn looked around, glaring at the faded pastel gates as if the were personally responsible for *not* matching Wesley’s fantasies.

 

“Expensive.” Wesley finished. “Assuming the lady actually possessed a jinn.”

 

Angel pressed the doorknob.

 

The door flew open.

 

A middle-aged lady stood there. Fatima Azzid, he presumed. Again, not what he had expected. She had the requisite olive skin and sable hair, but that was where any resemblance to the more creative Arabian Nights ended. She was also fifty plus, tending to fat, and decked out in a t-shit that proclaimed her dedication to Saving the Bay.

 

“Come in. Come in!” She shouted, waving them through the door before they could even ask.

 

Not the wisest course. but...

 

“You are Angel, the vampire, right?”

 

She apparently knew who they were, he finished mentally.

 

Wesley held out his hand. “Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, ma’am.”

 

“Charles Gunn.”

 

“Sit. Sit” Fatima Azzid waved at the living room, visible beyond the pointed archway. “I just made coffee.”

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Azzid.”

 

They sat as directed while she waved over a tray. A _floating_ tray - Wesley noticed - so clearly all the magic had not vanished with her husband. Which was unusual, unless... “Quite a lovely home you have here.”

 

“Thanks,” Wesley noted that she smiled as she looked around, clearly seeing memories. “ Azzid built it for me - back when we first got together.”

 

Gunn gave the Mission style ranch house a cautious look. “A genii built this?”

 

Angel nodded. “There were Arabs in Spain.”

 

“So true!” Mrs. Azzid picked up one tiny cup, filing it with steaming brew before setting it in front of Wes. “In fact, my Azzid has the most delightful stories of his time in Andelusia. At least until that dreadful Cid came along.”

 

“Excuse me?” Gunn  interrupted, reaching for his own glass. “If this place was put together by magic, why didn't it just...” he made a *poof* gesture with his hands.

 

“Heavens”. The older lady laughed. “Not like that. We hired Kaufman and Brode.” She gave Angel a knowing look. “Even magic can’t get you a building permit in LA.”

 

Wesley cleared his throat. LA politics had it’s demonic angles, but...

 

“You live alone here?” Angel asked. “You and your... husband?”

 

“We never could get children.” she sighed. “ What with his being a jinn and our marriage being... well... unofficial. And once I didn't have to work? Well, I took pride in keeping a nice house for him.”

 

“Which you did very well. I can sense that this is a loving home.”

 

The lady blushed. “Why, thank you Angel.”

 

“So.” Wesley leaned forward, anxious to get the conversation on a more useful - or at least more predictable - track. “Why don't you start at the beginning? When did you first suspect that this...Housperian?” He watched for her approval of the pronunciation before he continued. “When did you decide that he had stolen your husband?”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Azzid.” Angel said, setting down his untouched cup of Turkish coffee. “You were very... clear.” He looked over at Gunn, who had the audacity to actually be *enjoying* the dark murk. Six cups, so far. He just hoped the brew wouldn't keep Gunn up all night. Not that that would normally be a bad thing, but... they were on a case. Thinking of which? He turned back to his anxious hostess.  “Would you mind if we took a look around? Perhaps see where this Housperian was standing?”

 

“Please.” She stood, waiting for then to do likewise before she headed for the kitchen. “I was here.” She pointed to a large butcher-block table that stood in the middle of the stretch of fifty’s style tiles. “And he was out there.” She threw open the French doors, stepping back to let the three men step through.

 

Wesley swallowed - hard.

 

The front of the house had been - unremarkable - but the back garden was something out of Gunn’s dreams. Velvet cushions, tiled fountain, slightly more fruit trees then the area should strictly speaking have had room for. All it would take was one white tiger to get them firmly into Aladdin reruns. At that thought he stepped a bit closer to his lover. Gunn - after all - was armed. And it wasn't like Azzid wouldn’t also have seen that movie.

 

“Nice spread.” Gunn was saying.

 

Apparently the right thing, since Mrs. Azzid was beaming as she flipped on the yard lights. “I designed it myself,” she told him, bending down to pat the cat that suddenly appeared at her ankles. Tabby size, fortunately. “I don't know how I’m going to keep up with it without...”

 

“Your husband.” Gunn finished sympathetically. “I promise, we’ll do our best to get him back for you.”

 

“Excuse me.” Angle was standing on a bench near the wall, pulling back on the tangled grape vine that soared over the top of the bricks. “Your neighbor? The one you suspect? Would he be...?”

 

Angel pulled open the greenery wide enough to open a narrow window into the next lot.

 

Wesley gasped.

 

So did Gunn.

 

Somehow - without disturbing the street - the entire yard had been filled with what looked like a junior version of the Taj Mahal.

 

“You think?” Gunn pressed up on his toes, straining to take in the exotic sight. Greenery blocked the lower floors, but there were still gold-topped towers and domes soaring nearly to the power lines.

 

Angel let the foliage snap back. “Either the man has a jinn, or a very fashionable architect.”

 

Gunn shook his head. “You think that one of the neighbors would have called the police - or at least the papers.”

 

“In North Hollywood?” Mrs. Azzid stepped up on the bench beside Angel, then sniffed. “I’ve seen worse.”

 

* * *

 

There was general grumbling as the three men made their way back to the car.

 

Wesley cast a glance back over his shoulder, glaring at the bramble of pines that concealed the Persian palace. “I need to know how solid the incantations on that place are.”

 

Angel nodded. “I need to know more about this Housperian guy.”

 

Gunn groaned as he slid into the passengers seat. “I need to find a bathroom.” In the dead silence that followed, he continued. “Hey man, six cups of coffee?”

 

* * *

 

“No Wesley!” Angel’s eyes flamed a bit. Just to add punctuation. “ No helicopters!”

 

The ex-Watcher shrugged. “You’re the boss, boss. Bear in mind, please, that I need to get information on that palace by some means.” Information, he added mentally, that they were unlikely to gain sitting in a bar.

 

Wesley looked around. The bar was grimy and dark. Not much more then a shuttered up storefront. Certainly not a place he would choose for a social evening. On the positive side, it was quiet. A necessity to Angel, who had spent the last ten minutes talking to Cordelia  - who was talking to Willow - who was presumably talking to the great electronic beyond where all information on one Omar Housperian was stored. It was also demon friendly. A benefit, if not a necessity. Angel had eaten before they left, but it was always more comfortable when there was something on the menu that everyone could enjoy. Wesley looked down at his tepid Lipton's and amended that to ‘something everyone could at least drink’. And - significantly - it had a bathroom.

 

“How about getting someone inside?” Wesley pressed. “Any luck?”

 

“Not yet.” Angel shut off his cell phone and took a sip of his drink. A very small sip. Apparently the pig blood here wasn't any fresher than the tea. “Lorn told Cordelia  that jinn are sort of scarce these days. A lot of them went off dimension after 9/11, and...”

 

“Good Lord.” Wesley gave that sentiment an even darker expression then he had the tea. “You wouldn't think anti-Arab hysteria would extend to demons.”

 

“Why not. They’re already evil.”

 

“Rather.” Wesley pulled out his notebook. Not that he had anything to write, but he often thought better holding a book. Long training. “Too bad. I was hoping that we could at least get a message though to Azzid. Perhaps figure out where he is.”

 

“I’ve got Cordelia looking for a way to get someone inside. Perhaps if Housperian calls an employment agency...”

 

“When he has a jinn?”

 

“They make lousy chauffeurs.” Gunn answered, pulling out the chair next to his lover. He took a sip of his coffee.

 

From his expression, Wesley concluded, the coffee here was no better then the tea.

 

Wesley looked over at Gunn.  “I wonder...”

 

“No need, man.” Gunn grinned. “The answer’s yes.”

 

“No.”

 

“What?!” Gunn tried to sound offended. Tried and failed, as his partner was far to familiar to the sport of Brit-baiting to be fooled.

 

“Not that. Seriously.” Wesley started sketching. “About the neighbors.” He concentrated, trying to recall the exact layout of the winding streets. “I’m fairly sure there were houses on the road above Housperian. If we could get into the back yard of the house above his, we could probably see inside through the windows.”

 

Gunn raised one eyebrow. “We could?”

 

“Well,” Wes said. “Angel could. It’s a bit dark for human vision.”

 

“So you want him to... what?... just jump the fence?” Gunn shook his head. “Don’t you think folks might call the cops? I mean, our crew is not exactly in good with the LAPD these days.”

 

“If they didn't notice an entire Persian Palace popping up over one afternoon?”

 

Gunn shorted. “They’ll still notice a car with a Black man parked out front. Trust me on that.”

 

Wesley waved that off. “Only if they are home.”

 

“When it’s DWB, there’s always someone home.”

 

“Sorry, Wes.” Angel took another sip of the stale blood, then gave it up as a bad bet. Maybe the menu said pig, he thought, but from the taste he suspected the damn beast went meow. “That’s even assuming one of us could get into that yard. Brick walls? Iron gates? And as for me? Most LA back yards are as ‘private’ as the houses themselves.”

 

“Damn.” Wesley muttered.

 

“Damn!” Gunn shouted. He slapped his seat, catching his wallet as it all but left his pocket.

 

“Hey!” An offended cry from waist level.

 

Wesley spun. “What tha...” Whatever else he might have said was cut short by the strange sight of Charles Gunn holding a young boy by the arm. **_Literally_** holding him by the arm - several inches off the ground.

 

Heaven, Wesley thought. From the size of him the lad couldn’t be a day over... what?... seven? It was hard to judge, as the boy was a scrawny specimen. Roughly dressed, too, although given the current lack of fashions? The oversized shirt and pants might have been a ‘look’ for some, but in this case? Thrifts shops and emaciation were more likely.

 

Wes cleared his throat. “Aren't you a bit young to be in here, lad?”

 

The boy ignored Wesley, focusing his yellow eyes on Gunn. “Hands off, you bastard, - or I’ll rip your damn throat out!”

 

“Good heavens,” Wesley blinked. “It’s a child vampire?”

 

The naturally dark complexion disguised the anemia slightly, but not enough to completely hide the blue undertones beneath the chocolate skin. And then, of course, the growing fangs did rather give it away.

 

“Child pick-pocket is more like it.” Gunn easily evaded the flashing teeth, holding the miniature fiend at arms length.

 

“I’m nobody’s bloody childe, you bastard.” The vampire hissed. “ Le’me go!”

 

Wesley took a closer look. No one’s childe indeed. Certainly the wretched form didn’t look much like a cherished fledgling, but to create a minion? At that age? He was an expert of sort on vampires, but hardly on the junior variety. Hardly expert on the junior variety of even humans, truth be told. He peered closer. “How old are you, anyway?”

 

“Hundred and four -and a half.” The last was added with a certain despairing bravado. The boy struggled on, but Wes could see he was losing hope. “ Not that it’s any of your business - bloodbag.”  He gave his captor heartfelt growl. “This ain’t your turf, so you can just... Ouch! Ahhhh.”

 

 The last was caused by a strong slap from Angel. A slap in the rump - true. Angelus would have been crueler. But given vampiric strength? The boy hung limp, the last fight taken out of him.

 

Angel bent over. “What were you doing coming after Gunn?”

 

“Didn’t know he was yours.” The boy tried harder to pull away, but that just got him transferred to Angel’s even harsher grip. “Ouch! I wasn’t after him anyhow.”

 

“Then what were you doing in here?”

 

“Selling stuff.” The child vampire reached for a magazine on the pile now scattered below the table. “This. I’m a newsboy. It’s how I make my cash.”

 

Gunn took the battered magazine. “Hustler? I though most newsboys sold newspapers.”

 

The boy snorted. “Like anyone here would pay for the LA Times. Sides - this was what I could snitch.”

 

Angel smiled at Gunn. “He has a point.”

 

“Two of them.” Gunn looked from the miniature vampire, to Wesley, to Angel, Then back to Wesley. “Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin. “Angel. Wes. I’m getting an idea.” He bent down, face to face with Angel’s captive. “ Say what, fang-brat. You know this ‘hood?”

 

“I get around.”

 

“Yeh.” Gunn reached for Wesley’s notebook, holding out the street map the Watcher had drawn. “You ever get around here?”

 

“Been by.”

 

Gunn ripped out the sketch, then handed the notebook back to Wesley. “Tell you what, kid. Five bucks if you can get an invite into that house - then call us.”

 

The map disappeared underneath the baggy shirt. “What would you want to eat them for? Nothing but old codgers in this neighborhood.” Another moments thought was followed by an engaging - if fangy - grin. “ Tell you what, man.” The kid held out his free hand to Angel. “You give me twenty, I can show you some real good eating. I’ve got an invite to the USC woman’s dorm.”

 

Angel smiled at Gunn - then frowned at the kid. If he was eating coeds? They’d have to check that later. For now? “So do I, fledgling. But this is where we want to go.”

 

“OK.” He shifted his attention to Gunn. “Fifty then.”

 

“Ten.”

 

“Twenty. It’s probably some old lady place. With *cats*.” The last word brought a slightly theatrical shudder. “I could get my cheeks pinched!”

 

“You could get your butt pounded.”

 

*gerrr* The vampire growled. But not very loud. Wesley tried hard to hide his grin as his eyes shifted from the undersized monster to Gunn’s far more impressive bulk.

 

Gunn caught the look anyway. “Gerrrrrr back - and I’m bigger.”

 

“Shit.” The kid shifted back into full human face. “Get stuck at four feet tall and nobody believes you’re a Master.”

 

Gunn reached into his wallet. “OK. Twenty.”

 

“You got it.”

 

Angel let go of the kids arm, dropping him to the floor.

 

The boy scrambled to his feet, reaching for the bill.

 

Gunn pulled it back. “But you don't - yet.” He tore the twenty in half, passing only one section over.

 

“Bastard.”

 

“No. The name’s Gunn.”

 

“Dick.”

 

“Hey!” Angel caught the boy by the shoulder - hard.

 

“That’s my name.”

 

“Sorry.” The larger vampire let go again. “I’m Angel.”

 

“I bet.”

 

“Hey.”

 

There was a brief flash of gold in Angel’s eyes, and the boy looked down. “I’m cool man. Good name.”

 

After a brief hesitation, Wes held out his hand. “Wyndham-Pryce.”

 

Dick looked at Angel. “I ain't saying nothin’.”

 

Gunn smiled. “He goes by Wesley.”

 

“I ain't sayin' nothin about that neither.”

 

“Very well, gentlemen.” A glare at the boy implied that Wesley felt he was using the term loosely. “If the formalities are over?”

 

Angel dropped a few bills on the table. “Come on. We’re parked out front.”

 

Wesley held back, stepping over to speak to Gunn. “You believe because he's ...technically ... a child they are going to let him in?”

 

“Nah.” Gunn headed for the door. “But I figure they’ll at least answer the door. Probably run him off, but...” He stopped suddenly, frowning at the small display by the cash register. “Hummmm. I’ve got another idea.” He tossed the bartender a five, and scooped up a double handful of slightly dusty candy bars.

 

“Here.” He handed them to the kid. “When we get to the house - ring the doorbell and ask if they want to buy some band candy.”

 

“Sure thing, man.”

 

Dick started to unwrap one, but gave it up when Angel started glaring again.

 

Angel opened that passenger door. “Fasten your seat belt,” he said, waiting until the vampire kid had done so before taking the drivers seat.  “And, when you get to the house? No biting!”

 

“What?” Dick whined, kicking at the floor mat. “Not even leftovers?”

 

Angel’s eyes flashed gold. “You challenging?”

 

Dick slumped back in his seat. “No sir.”

 

* * *

 

“There.” Wesley reached over to tap the boy on the shoulder. “That is the house.

 

Angel slowed down as they drew nearer, giving the other two men the best chance to check out the possibilities.

 

This house was another LA stucco - indistinguishable from the one they had been in earlier. Or almost so. The paint on this one was a bit faded, and the roses that cluttered the front yard could use a good pruning, but other than that? There was no damage that couldn't be explained by the deferments of elderly owners.

 

Still, the absence of front lights could mean the owners had headed north for the summer.

 

“Looks good, Angel.” Gunn said.

 

“Looks pretty dark.” Dick made a face at the darkened front porch. He turned to Angel. “ You’re sure they’re even home?”

 

Angel considered the point. If the house was abandoned he could probably get in without the boy’s help. In which case? Well, the old Angelus would have considered that a minion was owed nothing - except perhaps the chance to survive to serve again. But that wasn't the way he was trying to live now... so...? “You get five even if no one answers the door.”

 

“You’re the boss.”

 

“Don't forget it.”

 

Pushing his seat belt off, Dick slid from the car without waiting for it to completely stop. Even as the door was slamming behind him, he was running up the flagstone path to the front door.

 

“Great technique.” Wesley commented.

 

“I _am_ the Scourge of Europe. And besides - I have to deal with Cordelia.” Angel steered the car down the street, and they all tried hard to look like they weren't looking as the juvenile vampire made his way up the path.

 

“I must confess. I am a bit concerned.” Wesley bit his lip slightly as he watched the seeming child pound on the doorbell. “I mean - he is a vampire.”

 

Gunn lifted the crossbow. “One standing in the open. At short range.”

 

Angel was about to give up and call him back when the porch light went on.

 

A white haired woman in a housecoat stuck her head out.

 

Angel peered closer. The door chain was still on - which was bad. But Dick was holding up the candy bars, which was good. And whatever the boy was saying, the lady of the house seemed to be listening carefully - which was even better.

 

The door closed.

 

Oh well, Angel thought. At least they knew the house was inhabited. That was still worth the five. To him, at any rate. He knew that other wise Wesley would eventually have nagged him into at least trying to climb the fence. With bad results. From experience, Angel knew that getting slammed out by disinvitation was not only frustrating - it hurt!.

 

He started to back up the car - but the boy was still standing there. Did he expect....?

 

Angel never got to finish that sentence, as the door suddenly swung open again.

 

The old woman handed out a bill, taking one of the candy bars.

 

Then the door closed again, and the porch light went off.

 

“What tha...”

 

As soon as the door shut, Dick was off again.  Not headed back to the car, but racing for the... side gate?

 

“What the hell?” Gunn said what Angel and Wesley were thinking. He also considered using the crossbow, but...? He looked again. It wasn't like the kid was doing anything *lethal*. At least not to anyone except - possibly - himself.

 

They watched in silence as Dick ducked through the hedge of roses, grabbed a branch on an overgrown orange tree, and spin himself up. Vampiric strength being considerable, and a boy’s body fairly light, he rose above the ironwork gate easily. Passed it high enough to soar over the ornamental spikes and the flanking brick pillars and glide smoothly into... nothing.

 

The boy hit solid air. Hit it hard enough to shake bones and send him spinning back into the front yard.

 

Fortunately, he missed the wrought iron spikes.

 

Unfortunately, the next thing in his path was a wooden trellis.

 

Dick fell into it with a splintering crack.

 

* * *

 

 

“Damn it, kid!” Gunn had been on the passenger side, and so had reached the fallen vampire first.

 

“Damn trellis.” Dick ignored the instinctively offered hand, rolling to his feet and shaking the gold out if his eyes.

 

Wesley reached the pair a moment later. “Are you still among the unliving?”

 

“Yah.” The child vampire hissed as he pulled up his baggy pants - catching a few long splinters. “Shit.” Dick’s gameface flashed a bit at the sight of his own blood. “Didn’t think it would be wood. Stuff is mostly plastic these days.”

 

“Which does not explain...” Wesley began.

 

Dick shrugged. “You wanted to know if the back was open to our type, right? Well, it ain't.” He stuck a finger into the fresh rip in the leg of his jeans. “Damn.”

 

“Damn is right.” Gunn looked over the battered boy. Nothing major, he decided. Vampires didn't bleed for long, and already the gashes were closing. Normally he would have dismissed it. Maybe sympathized a bit, if it were Angel or even William, but... Hell. The kid... looked like a kid.

 

“It’s OK.” Dick shook the dirt off and headed for the car. “I’ll live - so to speak.” Waiting until he was nearer to Angel, he asked hopefully. “And I’m still gonna get my five bucks - right?”

 

Angel nodded. “I keep my word.”

 

“Good.” Dick held Gunn's half-twenty, making sure he had Angel’s five  firmly in hand before letting go. “And...” His hand tightened on the remaining chocolate bars. “I’m keepin’ the candy.”

 

“I think you earned it.”

 

Dick pulled on his shirt, wincing a bit as the action jerked the remaining splinters out of his back. He took a few experimental steps, then turned back to Angel. “You gimmie a ride back to the bar?”

 

“Sure.” The senior vampire smiled. “I’ll even buy you a drink.”

 

“Neet!” Dick jumped into the car. “You springin' for pig?”

 

* * *

 

“Thanks, Angel.” Dick gave Angel a toothy grin as he finished off his mug of tepid pig in record time. Then licked the cup. “Hey - Joe.” He turned to the bartender. “Can I get...?”

 

The burley - and apparently human - lump behind the counter looked up. “NO credit!”

 

“How bout just a partial?” Dick held up the bill he had collected. “I got five bucks.”

 

Angel looked down at the empty mug. “Still hungry?”

 

The child vampire didn't answer.

 

Wesley did. “I believe that is inherent in vampires - and small boys.” He gave the undersized figure an accessing look. “Especially ones who lack...”

 

“Hey.” Dick turned his attention from the bartender long enough to give Wesley an offended hiss. “I get by OK.”

 

The British Watcher raised one eyebrow. “No doubt you are the Scourge of Pacoima.”

 

Dick started to shift into teeth. A gold-eyed glare from Angel sent the smaller vampire curling back into his chair. “OK.” he muttered, dropping his eyes at his empty mug. “So I don't get much people food - I still eat. Lots of rats down by the lake.”

 

“Please.” Angel grimaced, taking a shallow sip of his own stale pig. “My appetite.”

 

Dick gave Angel’s mug a hungry look. “Rat ain't too bad if you hunt in the park. Used to be able to get human there, but now days? If they ain't nasty-mean, then the blood is poisoned.” Dick shrugged. “I got my magazines, and I do OK. Although?” He took a last lick of the stained pottery mug. “I sure wish I had that twenty.” He looked up at Gunn, who was nursing a beer almost as stale as Angel’s pig. “Gimmie another shot? I promise this time I can get inside. Gimmie a chance?”

 

“Actually.” Gunn said slowly, looking more at Angel and Wesley then at Dick. “What would you say for a chance at a hundred?”

 

Dick bolted up, almost quivering. “Who you want me to kill? Not that it matters - I can do it - but...”

 

“Gunn?” Wesley’s tone supplied the rest of the question.

 

Gunn grinned. A wide white grin that showed just a few too many teeth. “I’ve got another idea.”

 

^^V^^   ^^V^^    ^^V^^   ^^V^^    ^^V^^   ^^V^^

 

This time Gunn sat next to the kid as they drove slowly up to the Azzid house - then past. Angel - still driving -  angled the car carefully so Dick could get what glimpse he could through the arched gateway that was the only break in the otherwise solid span of greenery concealing the yard. They couldn't see much, but what they did catch was impressive. Even more so than before.  Apparently the jinn had been building.

 

“That the place?” The junior vampire asked, waiting for Angel’s nod before he whistled. “Nice digs.”

 

“Jinn warded,” Wesley warned.

 

Dick ran a nervous tongue over his fangs. “This guy does magic?

 

Gunn snorted. “How you think he got that house?”

 

“Ummm.” The kid vampire swallowed hard. “Porn?”

 

Wesley shook his head. “Try jinn. And no, I don't mean he’s a bootlegger.”

 

Dick looked at Gunn. “I ain't so sure about this. Guys with houses like that don't answer their doors. Don't... doesn't he have servants or somethin’?”

 

“Eventually - I’m sure.” Having passed the gate, Angel set the car into reverse and slowly rolled back up the street, giving his passengers another angle on the gateway. “ But according to my sources he’s only one there now.”

 

“Oh.” Dick gave Angel a sideways look. “So you know this guy, right?”

 

“Not personally.”

 

“Then how you know he’s... him?”

 

“Research.”

 

“Kid.” Gunn rested his hand on the young vampires shoulder. “You want to watch out for a old guy with a big ring - looks something like this.” He reached over and took Wesley’s sketchpad, on which the Watcher had penciled out Mrs. Azzid’s description of the ring.

 

Dick stared at the drawing. “It’s the ring yer after?” He looked up. “Angel -bossman? How much if I can snatch it?”

 

“Just go to the door, like you did last time.” Angel leaned over the seat back. “If the man answers, hold out the candy. If he takes it, you should be able to see which hand has the ring.”

 

Dick bounced a bit. “Then I snatch it?”

 

“NO!” All three men’s voices echoed together in the enclosed car.

 

“You can’t just snatch it.” Wesley warned. “Jinn magic doesn't work like that. Angel will have to persuade him to take it off. Voluntarily.”

 

“Look kid.” Gunn reached for the door. “Don't even try grabbing for the ring. It won’t come off unless he takes it off . Which he won’t do. Just see if you can get him out into the open, where we can get a look at him. Or - if that doesn't work - at least try and get a  clear view of the ring. Come back and tell Wes here what finger he’s wearing it on.” Flipping the latch open, he added. “But don't flash any face, or you’re probably dead.” He thought a moment, and changed that to... “ Deader.”

 

Dick stopped, his hand on the door. “This dudes that bad?”

 

“Not on his own.” Wesley considered the question. “But as he has the jinn?”

 

Gunn shook his head. He knew, rationally, that this creature was a vampire. One of the evil dead. But damn ... the brat looked like some brother's kid brother. “Old man could order the genii to fry your ass like sunrise - so be careful.”

 

“OK.” Dick tucked the candy carefully into the crook of his arm as he headed for the open gate. “I got the idea.”

 

* * *

 

Parking the car up the street, the three men crept back to watch from the foliage as Dick made his way up to the house. As the open gate indicated, the owner was not yet paranoid enough to have placed wards on the lot. In fact, Wesley considered, he might not even know why he should, True, a man who would plot to steal a jinn should have some knowledge of the supernatural, but it was astounding how many people - even those who thought they understood magic - could be blind to the obvious. His stay in Sunnydale, while brief, had been educational in that regard.

 

Any mage ambitious enough to risk mastering a jinn should be likewise sage enough to suspect an uninvited visitor - however apparently innocuous - but...

 

Wes watched in silence as the apparent boy rang the bell.

 

The door opened.

 

An elderly man, thin and bearded, stood in the brightly lit doorway. He was not quite sharp-featured enough to be cast as a villain - were this only Hollywood - but...

 

Dick held up his offering. “Hi, Would you like to buy some band candy?”

 

“Sorry, son, but...” The door was already closing when Dick fumbled, sending bright wrapped chocolates skittering over the concrete.

 

“Oh!” Dick stumbled, falling forward but not _quite_ passing over the threshold.

 

“Good heavens, are you...” The old man reached out automatically, clutching Dick by the elbows.

 

Dick's head bent. Doubtless, Wesley thought, he was checking for the ring. Wesley peered closer, just in time to hear...

 

“Ulp!” With a body deep shiver, the boy vampire spewed chocolate over the old man’s shirt.

 

He dropped the boy.

 

“Uurp!” Dick hit again. This second spray covered the man’s hand.

 

“Damn!” The old man shook his hand. He rubbed it against his shirt, but that was equally splattered, and only spread the disgusting mess. He pulled out a handkerchief. Unthinking, he pulled off the ring as he wiped his fingers.

 

“Thanks, chump!” With vampiric speed, Dick snatched the gem and hot-footed it from the yard.

 

The man followed, but was no match for supernatural speed. Dick vanished around the corner before the old man was halfway down the block.

 

^^V^^   ^^V^^    ^^V^^   ^^V^^    ^^V^^   ^^V^^

 

“Good heavens.” Wesley blinked as Dick thundered past the shrubbery. “That is...”

 

“Disgusting.” Angel finished, setting off after the boy. Being more than mortal, he had the speed to actually catch the smaller vampire. When the old man faltered, Angel sped past unseen. Five minutes later he was back, Dick in tow, Angel’s hand now clutching the undersized hand which in turn held the fatal ring.

 

Wesley sniffed at the chocolate splattered figure. “As I believe Cordelia would say, gross?”

 

“Yeh, but impressive. In a repulsive way.” Gunn strolled up to the pair, opening the car. “And now we’ve got the ring.”

 

“Not yet ya don't.” Dick tried to pull back his hand, which was still trapped in Angel’s fist.

 

“Give over.” Angel tightened his grip. “The ring won’t work for the undead.”

 

Dick squirmed, but held on. “Not until I get my money.”

 

“Fair enough.” Gunn reached for his wallet, plucking out five twenties and fanning them under Dick’s nose.

 

“Don't I get a bonus?” Dick shifted his gaze from Angel, to Gunn, then back to Angel. “I mean, I...”

 

Angel looked at Gunn and shrugged.

 

Gunn pulled out another hundred. “Ok, boss-man. But this is all coming out of the company account.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

Dick dropped the ring and grabbed the bills. “Dinner!”

 

“Sure kid.” Gunn tucked back his billfold. “But I think first you’d better take a bath.”

 

“Uhh.” Dick looked down, suddenly realizing that his own shirt had not escaped unscathed. “Ya think...?”

 

Angel wrapped the ring in his handkerchief. “We’re headed next door. I’m sure, under the circumstances, that Mrs. Azzid can loan you a towel.”

 

Wesley looked uncertain. “Are you sure she will want to invite a vampire inside?”

 

“Why not? She’s already hired one.” Angel shrugged. “And if she’s married to a jinn? A vampire is practically human.”

 

* * *

 

“Mrs. Azzid?” Angel smiled, lips over teeth, holding the smaller vampire firmly before him. “Might he use your bathroom?”

 

“Of course. Come in!” She stepped back, waving away the scent of ruined chocolate. “Whatever happened to you, son?”

 

“A slight casualty.” Angel stepped over the threshold, his hand still firmly on Dick’s shoulder.  “If you have an extra t-shirt?”

 

““Will this do? I wear it for gardening.” She reached into the hall closet, pulling out a chambray shirt. It was battered looking, but clean.

 

“Thanks.” Dick grabbed the shirt and vanished down the hall.

 

Evidently, Gunn decided, the vampiric sense of smell extended to smelling themselves. As whiff as that boy was? Gunn was suddenly even more glad to be human.

 

“You said my neighbor.” Mrs. Azzid lead them back to the living room. “Did he...?”

 

“Dick gave the man a load of chocolate.” Angel smiled again, this time with teeth. “And took this.”

 

In a near-stage flourish, Angel produced the ring.

 

“OOOH! Thank you.” Heavy female arms gripped Angel, pressing him firmly into a well-padded expanse of bosom. “You brought my beloved back.”

 

By the time he freed himself, the senior vampire felt like gasping for air. Not that he was actually breathing, but... if vampires could suffocate? He definitely preferred the slimmer modern girls.

 

Mrs. Azzid rubbed the ring vigorously, ignoring the traces of former chocolate that clung here and there in the elaborate tracery.

 

There was a burst of light, flowing red through blue before settling into a huge purple cloud.

 

“Fatima.” The cloud roared, swirling into itself until it took on a massive make form. “Mistress.” Hugely muscled arms swept the lady into their embrace. “I have returned to you.”

 

“Strange.” Wesley murmured to Gunn, years of training taking over. “According to the Book of Mummed, a jinn is supposed to resent captivity and attempt to resist any new master.” He ducked slightly as several more swirls passed overhead before wrapping themselves around the ladies lower body. “Clearly, this one has no objection to his situation.”

 

Two faces met, purple lips locking with the merely human. Human hands traced the purple back, then vanished past the wide jeweled belt into the realm of still drifting clouds.

 

“Yeh, well.” Gunn looked at the ever-thickening clouds that were solidifying into a cross between Disney art and the old Mr. Clean commercials. “I don't think that brother is exactly being... forced.” Gunn smirked at Wesley. “More like persuaded.”

 

“Besides.” Angel grinned at the ex-Watcher, who seemed unable to either look or quite look away. All that well trained repression. He couldn't resist adding. “It looks like the job has... compensations.”

 

Suddenly noticing the mortals, the jinn broke away. “You have returned me to my beloved. By the Laws of Art - you shall be repaid.”

 

“Thanks, man.” Gunn stepped back slightly. Not that he was scared. Just that fourteen feet of anything tended to crowd the room. “We’ll have Cordy send a bill. That cool?”

 

 “Three wishes.” Azzid intoned, staring at Gunn. “By the Law of Solomon that is what I shall grant.

 

The jinn still loomed over them. Even in his supposed gratitude, he was a good deal less comfortable then his zoftig ‘mistress’. Gunn was beginning to recall the more fantastical parts of his high school required reading. There had been bits of the Arabian Nights that didn't make it over to Disney. It wasn't a particularly comforting memory. Not to mention Wes was looking nervous. Not that he didn't do that a lot. Hanging with Angel Investigations, he had reason to do that a lot. Wasn't like the man was a coward. He just knew too much for his own good. Still, if wishes was what they were gonna get?

 

“Angel.” Gunn held out his hand to the vampire who was his occasional and putative boss. “You should....”

 

The jinn flowed between them.

 

“His fate I have no influence over. That is given to the greater Powers.”

 

If Angel had been breathing, it would have been a sigh of relief. He was Irish. He knew about wishes. Frankly, being cursed once was bad enough.

 

“But for the rest of you?” The jinn lifted three fingers.

 

Dick blinked as three gold coins appeared in the air before them. Nice sized things. They would bring a fair chuck of change at any pawnshop in LA. Not that he’d have a chance to find out with the big guy around. He could maybe take one of the two humans, but that Angel? No prob, he decided, patting the bills now tucked into the pocket of his new (well, old - but new to him) shirt. Angel had made the mean guy pay him, and unless the big vampire stole the money back? Dick had enough money to live on pig for a month.

 

Plus - the boy patted his other pocket - he still had most of his candy. Not to mention new duds. He pushed up the twice-rolled sleeve. Maybe it was a little large, but this shirt smelled way better then anything from Good Will or the Sallies. With Angel also buying him dinner before? That was some serious good pay for stink and a few jabs.

 

But? Dick gave another greedy look at the big coin, then closed his eyes and shrunk down into he sofa. If he couldn't get the gold as gold? He’d rather just leave then do any wishing. This magic stuff was always dangerous.

 

Gunn was having much the same thought. If that gold was gold, it would be better and faster pay then they usually got. But? He leaned back against the wall. It probably wasn't. Or wouldn't be. In his experience, magic stuff didn’t work like that. As Cordelia would say - ‘Pity’. Cause he could use the bucks. Maybe Cordelia could get some out of the Mrs. Eventually. What they were getting now was wishes.

 

Magic wishes. Wesley bit his lip. From what he remembered, that was nothing to muck about with. But they had them. If Angel couldn't use them? He looked over at his lover. The jinn had chosen Gunn to be spokesman. Not a bad choice from Wesley’s perspective. Charles might not know as much magic as some, but he had a street sense that would keep him from the usual mistakes involved with wishing.

 

Charles Gunn smiled over at his lover. Wesley was looking a bit pale even for the ex-Brit’s usual honky-at-midnight pallor, but he also had the bit-lip determination that meant the man knew what the score was. “Go ahead, Wes.”

 

Wesley blinked, surprised. “It was your plan. You should...”

 

“Hey!” Dick started up from the sofa. ”What about me?”

 

The jinn smiled at them over the fence of glitters. “Might I suggest?” He waved his fingers, sending two of the coins spinning on different orbits until they dangled in front of Dick and Wesley. “One each?”

 

“So then you can leave us all screwed?” Dick snarled, slipping onto game face.

 

At Angel’s answering snarl, the boy melted back to human. “Sorry, but...” He lowered his head apologetically. “I’ve been 7 years old for the last century. You go through a lot of fairy tales.”

 

“Please, young Master.” Azzid smiled, bowing low in classic Disney fashion. “ I’m not that type of Jinn.”

 

Wesley made some complicated hand gesture. “You had better not be.”

 

The jinn noticed, but - at least as far as Gunn could tell - ignored whatever ward that was. “The young Master may speak.”

 

“OK.” Dick stood, gripping the floating coin with both hands. “I want to grow up. But!” He gave the jinn a warning flash of fang. “Not too old. Not like ninety or something. Maybe?” He looked at Gunn. “Twenty-five?”

 

“Good age, kid.” Gunn nodded. “Too old to get carded, but young enough to still get a first job.”

 

“OK.” Dick took a deep breath. “I want to grow up to twenty-five.”

 

The token vanished in a shower of rainbows.

 

“So shall it be.”

 

The jinn turned back to Gunn.

 

“Master Gunn? What is your desire.”

 

Gunn gave him a look. “I just want out of this without anyone getting killed,” he muttered.

 

“Please - effendi.” The jinn spun back in a swirl of purple cloud, arms raised. “You have done me a great kindness. Even an infidel would not return evil for good.”

 

“OK. OK.” Gunn thought for a moment. He knew the usual traps. Money, fame, power. All that stuff was guaranteed to bite back when you tried for it by magic. But what about? He started to speak... slowly. “I don’t want anyone hurt, but... if you can manage it? I want Wesley’s father to get off his back.” Oops, Gunn thought. These things had to be specific, right? Specific. “I want him to stop bugging Wesley about the damn ‘family estate’ going to Wes’s cousins when the old man is dead.”

 

“As you wish - so shall it be.” Azzid clapped his hands, and the shower of rainbows fell again. “And you, Master Wyndham-Pryce?” Azzid floated over to the third coin. “How shall this one serve your desire?”

 

Wesley shifted, uneasy. “Just remember.” He gave the jinn a cautious look. “ I speak your language.”

 

Azzid wiggled - a silent laugh. “Did I not just say...?”

 

“Very well.” “I wish...” Wesley pulled himself to his full height, and his voice was clipped. “I wish that Social Services will change their mind and allow Gunn and myself to adopt a child.”

 

“Let it be even as your words.”

 

The last coin vanished into the now familiar show of lights.

 

Azzid swelled over them, his transparent arms outstretched from wall to wall. His voice was a drum, deeper and more pounding then the sea.

 

“So it is spoken. So shall it be done.”

 

There was a large flash, and the presence vanished.

 

When Gunn could see again, Mrs. Azzid was standing where the genii had before. She was smiling, and gently rubbing the elaborate ring that once again rested on her right hand.

 

“Thank you so very much, gentlemen.” She stacked the coffee cups back on the enameled tray before guiding them gently to the front door. “Please do tell Miss Chase that I will speak to her in the morning?”

 

* * *

 

Well, Charles Gunn thought as they followed Angel back to the car.  At least they had a shot at real money. That was something. He smiled at Angel. “So that’s...”

 

“Lying bastard!” Dick’s bitter snarl burst through the reverie.

 

“What?”

 

“Do I look twenty-five to you?”

 

Well, no, Gunn considered. Dick still looked like Dick. Which was to say, ratty, bled out, and on the scrawny side. Pretty much like any other vampire. Which was...? Gunn stopped. Right. The kid was supposed to be twenty-five. He looked at Angel, then at Wesley. “Maybe it just takes a ... little time... for the mojo to start up?”

 

Wesley answered automatically. “Traditionally, the blessing of the Jinn are granted as the tokens vanish.” Then he also paused, blinking at the undersized vampire as he caught Gunn’s meaning. “As we no longer have the coins, I would assume...”

 

“The bastard screwed us!” Dick aimed a kick at the car door. Kid or not, with vampire strength it dented.

 

“Hold on.” Angel grabbed for him. “That's... Holy Mary!”

 

“What!?” Wesley and Gunn called, simultaneously.

 

“He’s hot.”

 

“Bullshit.” Dick snarled. “I ain't no where near old enough for that sex shit.” He gave Angel a killing glare. “Or are you some perv who...”

 

“No, I mean it.” Angel ignored the squirming boy. “Wesley! Feel him.”

 

“Hold off.” Dick slipped into fangs. “If you’re some short eyes...”

 

“Peace!” Angel snarled. “Touch yourself. You are warm.”

 

Gunn stared at the car - transfixed. That was Wesley. And Angel... wasn't... to his right. And at the end of Wesley’s arm? “Shit.” he whispered, pulling his gaze from the door. “Look in the car mirror.”

 

Dick followed Gunn's gaze, only to be likewise stunned. “I. That’s me!”

 

Wesley peered over their shoulders. Yes, indeed. There were two reflections beside his own. He looked down at the boy. “Apparently you failed to specify how fast you wanted to grow up.”

 

“Shit.” Dick dropped down, slumping onto the curb. “What am I supposed to do now.” The child moaned, eyes dampening with real water. “I mean, at least as a vampire I could feed myself. Where the hell am I gonna go now? An orphanage?”

 

Wesley looked at Angel, then at Gunn. His expression was unreadable. Which worried Gunn, as he had a lot of practice at reading Wesley’s non-expressions. “You could... perhaps... move in with us?”

 

Gunn stepped back. “Social services would never...”

 

*brrrring* *brrrring*

 

It was Wesley’s cell phone. He flipped it open by instinct. “Yes?”

 

“Mr. Wyndham-Pryce?”

 

‘Social Services’ Wesley mouthed at Gunn.

 

Gunn leaned forward, trying to hear the faint voice.

 

“Sorry for the late hour. But - you have been rather anxious, you know. So I thought you would want to hear immediately. The approval for you to adopt Richard just came over my desk. If you and Mr. Gunn could come down to my office? Perhaps tomorrow morning?.”

 

Richard? Could she mean?

 

Wesley waited for Gunn’s nod before answering.

 

“We will most surely be there. Shall we say nine o’clock?”

 

“Excellent.” The phone went dead.

 

“Wasn't that?” Gunn made a familiar rude motion at the now-silent phone. “Isn't she the bitch that?” He faltered, staring at Wesley. “Wait minute... You just wished that she would change her mind about...” he shifted his now slightly horrified focus to Dick... “giving us a kid.”

 

Angel leaned back on the hood, crossing his legs. “Apparently the wish has been granted.”

 

“And.” Gunn's eyes grew comically wide. “If you adopt him - that cuts off your dad and the whole inheritance gig.”

 

Wesley swallowed. Hard. “Which is what you wished.”

 

“Clever bastard. He’s as bad as a leprechaun.” Angel looked at the stunned trio and, after a moment, laughed. “Play wishing games, and the damn faie will get you every time.”

 

Wesley stood in silence a moment longer, then suddenly straightened. Reaching for the car door, he said. “Come along Richard. It’s well past your bed time.”

 

 

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©KKR 2011


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